


Sunset

by Hekate1308



Series: Sherlock Holmes/Sally Donovan Universe [30]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She watches the sunset. She has always felt slightly ambivalent about sunsets – she has never really liked things to end, even days – and the feeling grows stronger the older she gets. Sherlock/Sally, part of my ongoing universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset

She doesn’t turn around when the door bangs open. She calls out “Bees!”, hears a happy “Thanks, Gran!” and the whirlwind that is her eldest granddaughter sweeps past her.

As soon as she steps foot in the garden, she starts yelling about her day, and Sally imagines her skipping towards Sherlock, only slowing down when she gets near the bees.

She turns away from the file she was reading – unofficially, these days, but many young police officers ask for help, and her son can’t be expected to look into each case – when Hamish enters the house. She smiles broadly at him. With every year, he looks more and more like Sherlock.

“Is Kathy already...”

“Of course” she answers fondly and they laugh. Hamish hugs her.

“How are you, Mum?”

They always pretend that the children don’t know the moment they look at her.

“Same as always” she replies. His answer is a sceptical look.

Sally sighs. “My back is troubling me” she admits, “but you know how it is; it’s what happens when you get old. Remember Mrs. Hudson’s hip?”

He chuckles at that. Their late landlady kept complaining about her hip while doing everything she had always done without problems until the day she, at an age that could be called biblical, went to sleep and didn’t wake up. It was Sally who found her, already knowing what she would see when she opened the door.

She left them her house. They still spend half of their time in London. When Sherlock first thought about his retirement, long before they met, he believed he would live a quiet life in Sussex, never returning to the city he had spent a life on. But he didn’t expect John, he didn’t expect Sally, and he certainly didn’t expect children and grandchildren. He keeps bees, and he does a lot of experiments he never found the time for before he retired – if their life can actually be referred to as “retirement”, sometimes she doubts it – but there are also a lot of visits and games. Hardly a day passes during which they don’t see at least one of their grandchildren.

Kathy is as fascinated by the bees as her grandfather; Sally suspects that this is why Hamish’ older child is always begging him to drive her to Sussex the moment she hears her grandparents have left the capital. Her brother Toby is less interested in animals and experiments. He asked to be allowed to learn violin when he was three and now, at seven, he’s already playing pieces Sherlock composed for him.

Sally makes coffee, aware that Sherlock will soon return to the house with Kathy. Hamish observes her carefully, but she merely smiles. She spoke the truth; her back’s always giving her a bit of trouble these days, but it’s to be expected.

She turned ninety a month ago.

Her hearing’s not what it used to be either, and things go slower now. But she doesn’t mind. There is something about taking things slow. She never could spare the time to do it when she was younger, and sometimes she still can’t. With Sherlock Holmes as her husband, she expects nothing less. But the days on which they take a break and one of them makes breakfast and Sherlock smiles at her in that special way of his, she knows she would go through it all again – them hating each other, his death, his return – just to get where they are.

Kathy and Sherlock enter the house.

“And then I knew Tina’s parents were going to get divorced, but I didn’t say anything...”

“It was a good decision” Sherlock replies. “Most people do not appreciate being told about deductions openly”.

She suppresses a smile, remembering times when Sherlock wouldn’t have given that advice. He always speaks openly to their grandchildren, which is probably why they love him so much, although it might also have something to do with him allowing them to help him tend the bees and telling them about cases.

“Coffee” she says, passing him the cup. He looks at her, his eyes crinkling.

His hair is all white now, and he wears it shorter, there are crowfeet around his eyes and his hands are those of an old man, and she loves him as much she did half a century ago when she married him.

Kathy demands her cacao, and Hamish looks at them in that exasperated way children always do when their parents show their affections too openly and which they never lose, not even as adults. She blushes as she remembers that he can probably tell that last night they were as close as they could possibly be to one another once more.

“Hamish” Sherlock says, “How’s the Kenden case going?”

“It was the housekeeper” Hamish answers.

“Of course it was”.

Hamish rolls his eyes but chuckles at his father. There’s a certain sadness in Sherlock’s eyes, and she squeezes his hand. He isn’t the only one who was reminded of someone by his and Hamish’s talk.

They lost Mycroft last year. Just like that, the pain they had felt three years before that, losing her sister and brother-in-law, returned, and with a poignancy that she suspected surprised Sherlock. Up to the last day, Mycroft was running the country with Anthea and Cecily, who has managed to not only become one of the best scientists but also taking over her uncle’s office without any noticeable change that would alarm the public or politicians, and although it was to be expected that he would eventually pass on, it was a surprise. When Anthea called, Sherlock picked up and she knew from his expression what had happened. His funeral was a small affair compared to his importance; but of course he had always been careful not to let show who was the real power behind the Government. And their family and friends were there.

She can see that Hamish remembers as well, and even Kathy’s normally curious eyes are looking down on the floor.

“Well” she says, “who wants cake?”

Immediately the face of her granddaughter lights up. Sherlock squeezes her hand and lets go.

After they have eaten, Kathy drags Sherlock out to the bees again, and Hamish tells her about Scotland Yard.

Even Dimmock is retired now, and there’s no one who really fills the hole he and Greg left – and, well, Sally herself. There are a few young officers they can work with though, even if some of them are sceptical. Some things will never change.

Hamish is talking about a particularly annoying young police woman and doesn’t see the indulgent smile on his mother’s face.

“She’s an imbecile. She’s certain that I have something to do with the cases I solve, even though Dad and you solved enough on your own, and she isn’t even polite – “

“If I didn’t know you were happily married” she interrupts him “I would be thinking about the wedding now”.

He looks at her and laughs. “Mum, I’m sure you were nothing like her”.

He doesn’t know, and he never will. He’s only ever seen his parents happy and in love. With all the time that has passed loving Sherlock, it seems incredible to herself that she used to hate him. And yet it seems so short ago that she watched John pull him back as he was in danger of falling to his death and realized she loved him.

Speaking of John, he should call soon. When they are in the country and the Watson happen not to be, a rare enough occasion, he calls and texts constantly, just like when she first met him. Their grandchildren are growing up together as their parents before them, and the doctor still runs after Sherlock when he needs to, although they both run slower these days.

As she is thinking this, she hears Sherlock’s phone ring and Kathy’s demand that he let her speak to Uncle John.

Hamish smiles. “I do promise he is fine” he teases. “I saw him when we left”.

“Because that would be enough for you and Thomas” she answers, and he shrugs, laughing. “He’s running down a witness as we speak; we’re sure she knows something of Karl Matten’s death, but –“

“She’s a prostitute” Sally continues. “She’s scared. I would be too with someone like Gruner after me”.

Hamish raises an eyebrow. She does the same. Then they laugh. She and Sherlock read about the case today in the newspaper, and it’s straightforward, as far as they can tell. Hamish and Thomas obviously agree. They work many cases at the same time, usually, the consulting business booming even more than in Sherlock’s and John’s days. Cecily helps sometimes too.

Sherlock and Kathy return to the house.

“Uncle Thomas has found the jewel” Mary tells her excitedly and she looks at Sherlock. “Was it were you thought it was?”

“Yes. A rather ingenious plan” he answers satisfied.

Kathy is very mature for her age, but Sally is still glad they were talking about the theft of the missing sapphire and not about some others they are working on. Sherlock smirks, reading her thoughts, and she rolls her eyes.

At the end of the day, Kathy leaves tired but happy, and she hugs her son, telling him they’ll be back in London on Sunday.

Sherlock is sitting in the garden with two cups of tea. She sits down next to him and for a few minutes, neither of them speak.

She watches the sunset. She has always felt slightly ambivalent about sunsets – she has never really liked things to end, even days – and the feeling grows stronger the older she gets.

She knows they won’t live for much longer. She knows every day could be their last. And she knows that one of them will be left alone. Philemon and Baucis is a lovely story, but it’s not going to happen. One day she is going to wake up and he will be cold next to her, the brilliant mind gone forever, or she will search him by his beehives and find him lying there, or he will come looking for her and she will be slumped over the sofa. She knows what happens to a body after death, she knows that it is coming.

And yet she can’t imagine living without him, he no longer looking at her and smiling at her, holding her in the night. They have been together for so long, she cannot picture him without her or her without him, and she is scared.

There’s a soft hand upon hers, and before she meets his eyes, she looks at both their hands. They have become old, wrinkles casting a net over them. And yet he can still perform experiments without them shaking and he can still touch her like she is the only thing worth being touched.

She raises her eyes to his face, to this face she knows as well as her own. His mouth that can as easily tell her he loves her as call someone an idiot; his eyes that can harden looking at a criminal and yet light up at the sight of those he loves.

And suddenly she knows that she can’t forget him. No matter what happens, if one of them is left alone, the other will still be there, in their mind and heart.

It will be enough. It will hurt, but it will be enough.

As always, he can tell what she is thinking. As always, his eyes widen a bit with comprehension.

He intertwines their fingers.

“I love you”.

Every time he tells her, she feels like it is the very first. She smiles and he answers with that small smile of his she adores so much.

“I love you” she replies softly and they turn to look at the sunset. It isn’t scaring her anymore.

The future doesn’t scare her anymore.

She is sitting in their garden with the love of her life and she is happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy endings everywhere because, quite frankly, sometimes one needs happy endings.   
> Hope you liked it.


End file.
